


Not a Bang but a Whimper

by emynii, ObliObla



Series: Nia & Obli's Whumptober 2019 [25]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Heaven, Post-Season/Series 03, Shame, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 03:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynii/pseuds/emynii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: Amenadielisan evangelist, after all, come to bring the gospel of self-actualization to his errant siblings. How glad they’ll be to learn they are the masters of their own fate.For the Whumptober prompt: humiliation





	Not a Bang but a Whimper

**Author's Note:**

> This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but with a whimper.  
—T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

The gates are silver and perfect.

As Amenadiel ascends to the Silver City, joy rises in his heart even above the sorrow of Charlotte’s death. Once he assures her entry and leaves her soul to be welcomed by Phanuel, he allows an almost giddy grin to spread across his face.

He _ is _ an evangelist, after all, come to bring the gospel of self-actualization to his errant siblings. How glad they’ll be to learn they are the masters of their own fate.

He considers calling a meeting, summoning every angel of any real standing to the central forum, under the distant but watchful eye of Father. But perhaps a degree of subtlety would be preferable, though he is still certain of his positive reception.

_ The serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field, _ his mind whispers, but he ignores it, alighting near a group of angels deep in conversation.

“Brothers!” he greets, arms spread wide. “Sisters!” As firstborn he commands a certain amount of respect. Or so he tells himself. So he has always told himself.

_ When the universe was young and Mother still resided in Heaven, Amenadiel was content. As the eldest he shepherded his younger siblings, watched over their works, ensured their success. He was responsible for them, and he welcomed that responsibility. _

_ They all looked up to him, and, slowly but surely, he found himself looking down upon them. _

_ Then Samael grew discontent, and Amenadiel didn’t notice. By the time he uncovered his brother’s disillusionment, it was too late. Samael’s supporters were as weeds choking the garden of paradise, and Amenadiel, tasked by Father as His gardener, had failed to prune them. _

_ Rebellion was at hand. _

_ And it was Amenadiel’s fault. _

“Amenadiel,” Hariel says with a slight nod and the edge of derision, “you’re back. How _ wonderful.” _

“Yes!” Amenadiel says with as much earnestness as he can muster. “I have news. _ Great _ news!”

“From Earth?” Nuriel asks, frowning. “What could you _ possibly _have learned from that place? From those… creatures?”

_ Amenadiel had never been directly involved with the humanity project. All he’d known was that it had taken a frustratingly long time and several false starts, and, now that there was a garden—a lesser version of paradise—and there were two of them, Amenadiel was not to allow any interference. _

_ So of course Samael—now apparently self-styled as ‘Lucifer’—chose that moment to crawl his way out of Hell. _

_ But the serpent was indeed more subtle than any beast of the field, and he spoke his poison into God’s creations’ ears, causing them to fall as he had. And, when Amenadiel finally realized what was going on, when he deigned to come down to Earth, only Lucifer was left in the garden. _

_ Amenadiel had his duty, and he would perform it. That was all. _

_ When he returned to Heaven only then to find that Lucifer had again escaped, the siblings who had once looked to him with respect now dismissed him. And, as Lucifer broke from Hell, over and over, they made a mockery of him, and he began to wonder if they’d ever truly held him in any esteem at all. _

_ No sooner, it seemed, that he landed in the Silver City would Phanuel or Uriel or any one of his many, many siblings alight next to him to herald his failures anew. _

_ “How difficult could it possibly be to keep that filth contained?” one would ask another in passing. _

_ “Patrol the lesser gates of iron? I wish my task were that simple,” another would say to their brethren.. _

_ “First born,” they’d whisper to themselves, more curse than praise, now. “He has no real purpose left.” _

_ Lucifer had taught the humans shame in the garden. Lucifer taught Amenadiel shame thousands of times. And it never went down as smoothly as some mortal fruit. No, it caught in his throat, making him choke on its putrefaction. _

_ All Amenadiel had ever wanted was to carry out his purpose, and even that was denied him. _

Amenadiel pulls his earnestness around his as a shield. “The humans are more clever than you know, brother.”

They all scoff, now. 

Remiel, once his fondest sister, rolls her eyes. “What have you discovered, then?” she asks impatiently, as if it is less a pain to appease him than refute him.

This is not the reception Amenadiel expected. This is precisely the reception Amenadiel _ should _ have expected.

Amenadiel, first born—ignored by his siblings, ignored by God, even ignored by His creations. There was no angel Amenadiel in scripture. Gabriel was the messenger; Amenadiel had only ever brought one message, and it had forever gone unheeded. Raphael was the miracle worker; Amenadiel had only worked one miracle, and what use had _ that _ been. And Michael was the warrior; Amenadiel, after all, had only ever truly been a warrior in a war he’d never wanted to fight. Michael had been the one to cast Samael down when his punishment _ should _have been Amenadiel’s responsibility.

And then Amenadiel was left with nothing, set to no other task but to babysit his errant brother. 

Lucifer, who did nothing but disobey, was still the favorite. Amenadiel, who did everything his Father asked, received nothing but silence. Lucifer, who killed Uriel—_though he didn’t blame him; he could never blame him_—received no punishment at all.

Surveying his siblings, Amenadiel wonders if they hate him, now, like they hated Lucifer.

He shakes his head. Of course not. They don’t care enough for hatred.

He sighs, wondering if it’s even worthwhile. But he _ has _ to try. He has to guide his siblings. It is his responsibility, and he must fulfill it. Not because God ordained it, but because he was first born; he will always feel responsible for them. So he tries to explain, and, as he continues to speak, smile plastered across his face like it doesn’t make his soul shrivel and dim, he comes to a terrible realization.

He sounds like Lucifer, extolling the virtues of freewill, implying, if not outright stating, that the angels do not _ need _ Father to shape their will and their purpose. That they can do it themselves. And with every angel he talks to, with each angel that is first distempered, then hostile, a voice whispers in his mind, _ I don’t want this. I don’t want rebellion. _

And he wonders if this is how Lucifer felt, all those years ago. But then he comes to another, crueler, realization: he is not inspiring rebellion, is, in fact, only inspiring ridicule. And, one by one, even their anger turns to laughter.

“That’s hilarious.”

“That’s nonsense!”

“That’s _ absurd!” _

Somehow, even in failure he has failed. Lucifer, after all, was not met with mockery but with malediction. Not with scorn but with fear. How much more noble it is to be called traitor and slanderer than fool and imbecile. How much more honorable to show the emperor has no clothes than to simply wonder whether he ought to change his pants.

When Lucifer fell, everything changed. The universe itself was rocked on its axis. When Amenadiel fell, _ nothing _ changed. When _ Lucifer _spread doubt in Heaven, there was a war. And now Amenadiel does the same, and they ignore him. Worse, they mock him.

And it doesn’t matter at all.

It never has.


End file.
